Holding On
by theypreferthetermpeople
Summary: Jesús is overcome by the stresses of teenage existence, and decides to end his life. Luckily, his moms come to the rescue. TW: Suicide.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: For some reason this idea won't leave me alone, so I'm writing it. Major_ _ **trigger warning for suicide**_ _, both ideation and attempt. Please please don't read if this will cause you harm. This chapter does not feature the actual act, but it's forthcoming, so prepare yourselves._

* * *

It was Tuesday, Lena's least favorite day. She didn't know why, exactly, but for some reason she'd never had the Monday blues the way most people seemed to. Instead, Tuesdays were her dreaded day - lacking the shock value or energy of a Monday, and with the weekend nowhere in sight. She woke up slowly, having hit the snooze button, which she never did. Stef was already in the shower, which was something of a blessing. Usually Lena showered first, made coffee, and started breakfast before her wife was even awake, but it seemed Stef had decided to give her the gift of an extra ten minutes in bed today. She could hear the kids' shower running as well, which meant either Callie or Jesús was up and about. (Brandon showered at nights now, to get a better chance of hot water, and both Mariana and Jude usually slept in.) When at last getting up seemed unavoidable, Stef came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her torso, her newly short hair dripping onto her shoulders.

"Good morning, love," she greeted, winking at Lena where she lay in bed. "You feeling okay?"

Lena nodded, hauling herself up and stretching. "Just couldn't get going today," she explained. "Can you do coffee while I shower?"

"On it," Stef affirmed, turning away from her wife and dropping the towel to her waist. Lena watched as Stef carefully affixed her bra and pulled it over her chest, still adjusting to the new weight of implants. On went a black t-shirt, underwear, and the uniform, all with Lena still gazing at her wife's back. When Stef turned around, she was surprised to discover that Lena hadn't gone into the bathroom, but she covered the startle with an attempt at coyness. "See anything you like?" she asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Everything," Lena replied, leaning across the bed for a peck on the lips before she turned to go into the bathroom and shed her pajamas. Stef followed and swept on her usual light makeup - brown pencil eyeliner, a dab of mascara, and light-coverage foundation - while her wife showered. Stef lingered in the bathroom until Lena stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel which Stef tugged away.

"Mmm," she hummed flirtatiously, eyeing her wife's body. Lena rolled her eyes but accepted the kiss she was offered before grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself.

"Go make me coffee, woman," she demanded with a swat to Stef's shoulder.

"As you wish, m'lady," Stef acquiesced, giving her another kiss on her way out of the bathroom.

Lena dressed, styled her hair, and applied her makeup as the welcome aroma of coffee rose through the house. She heard the kids' bathroom cycle through three showers before achieving silence, and she mentally took inventory of the day's plans. Brandon had piano, so he would want to drive himself to school; Jude had to stay after with his tutor; and Mariana had STEM. That left Jude, Jesús, and Callie walking home, but with two cars, everyone could easily get a ride to school.

* * *

When she finally arrived downstairs, a little anxious at the time, she was pleased to see four kids sitting at the table, all in varying states of cereal completion. Stef was buttering toast, which she set down at Lena's spot, which already had a steaming mug of coffee in front of it.

"Thank you," Lena said, squeezing her partner's hand as she sat down to eat.

"Jesús, let's get going!" Stef yelled up the stairs in reply. "I swear, that boy..." She trailed off, leaving the threat unfinished. "Alright, you four - backpacks? Lunches? Homework done?" The kids at the table nodded in the affirmative to all three questions, and she kissed them all on the heads before grabbing her own lunchbox. "I've got to run. Have a good day, babies." She pulled a final kiss from Lena's mouth. "I love you. I'll be home for dinner."

Lena nodded distractedly. Jesús was usually one of the first ones up, and for him to stay in bed this late was unheard of, unless he was sick. "Jude, was Jesús awake when you came down?" she asked, and her youngest shrugged, his mouth full.

"I 'unno, he wasn't like getting dressed or anything," Jude mumbled, swallowing his bite in the middle of the sentence.

"B, please go check on your brother," Lena directed, and through Brandon's whine she justified, "because you're the oldest. Now go. The rest of you, get your stuff together, we've got to get going. Brandon's going to drive today, so two in his car and two in mine."

Brandon came thundering back downstairs. "He told me to fuck off," he announced, and Lena winced. "Hey, I'm just quoting!"

"Alright. Get your stuff and go." Lena scrubbed her hands down her face. "You can take the green car today, to get to piano, so take your siblings to school please. I'll deal with your brother."

* * *

Upstairs, she found Jesús lying on his back in bed, his eyes open and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"Baby, let's go," she urged, patting first the door, then his bed, and finally his chest in effort to prompt some kind of reaction from her son.

"I'm staying home today," Jesús grumbled, rolling away from his mama's inquisitive eyes. "I'm sick."

"Head or tummy?" Lena asked automatically, putting a hand to his forehead. "You don't feel feverish..."

"I'm just sick," he reiterated, pulling his covers over his head. Lena sighed.

"I don't have time to fight you on this right now. If you say you're sick, I'll trust you. Stay in bed, drink water, and I'll call you at lunchtime, okay?" She kissed the lump under the blankets. A guttural sound of affirmation came out. With one more affectionate pat to what she thought was his shoulder, she left the room, shaking her head. It was pretty clear he wasn't sick, just tired, but she didn't have time to argue and drag him out of bed. It was already nearly 8, and she needed to be at school.

She texted Stef on her way out the door: _Jesús staying home, says he's "sick." Didn't have time to fight it. Will call him at lunch. I'm late. Love you, be safe._ A response quickly winged its way back: the eye roll emoji, followed by _Okay. Love you too. I will. Text me after you call him._ And with that, Lena had to put her son to the back of her mind, before she was late to work.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Okay, it's in the description and the first chapter, but it bears repeating - **suicide trigger warning.** This is the chapter in which the planning leading up to the attempt takes place. Take care of yourselves._

* * *

Jesús heard the front door slam and silence descend upon the house as, finally, his family left for work and school. He let the quiet envelope him for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. No relief came with the emptiness of the house. He had hoped that without the bustle of four siblings, his thoughts might clear into some more understandable pattern. But alas, he felt as lost and numb as before. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, tensing every muscle in his body, and then exhaled, trying to release all the tension just as Mama had taught him, but something seemed lodged in his gut, a spot of such enormous emptiness that it was physically painful. He tried screaming into the echoing house, but felt no release. He rolled over in bed and buried his face in his pillow. It seemed like nothing he did could change this. He felt simultaneously like he was drowning and like he was adrift in an open sea, completely alone. Alone, empty, lost, numb, and somehow also in great pain. What a shitty combo.

Lena had pulled into the parking lot at Anchor Beach and bustled into her office only minutes before the first bell, making her dramatically late. She mentally thanked Brandon for driving the kids to school, as she saw their car in the student lot and knew they'd made it on time. Once she got into the office, though, her kids were swept from her mind with the phone calls and paperwork, emails and meetings, that made up the bulk of her job. One family wanted off the wait list, another wanted onto it. One parent was upset about their kid's in-school suspension, another angry about the quality of school lunches. On and on, seemingly never-ending, as she clicked through the messages that had arrived since the previous afternoon, and answered each with the kind of patience and civility that's expected of your average retail worker.

By lunchtime, she was more than ready for a break, and pulled out both her salad and her cell phone. No texts from Jesús, which wasn't worrisome - he was either asleep or playing video games, she was sure. Still, she knew she ought to check in, so she clicked on 'Home' in her contacts and held the phone up to her ear.

* * *

When the landline rang, Jesús ignored it. After lying in bed for several hours, he'd gotten up and made himself a sandwich, which he took back to his room. He sat at his desk for forty minutes trying to figure out how he was going to satiate his desire for some kind of end to the numbness and pain he was wallowing in. First he Googled, wondering how much of various drugs was needed to cause an overdose. Then he search through both bathrooms and the hall closet, exploring what the family had. He tugged aimlessly at the two belts he owned, wondering if they were strong enough to hold his weight. The sound of the phone couldn't deter him from his mission. He'd made his decision - he was going to kill himself, today, while everyone was out. No one would have to hear or see him. No one would have to know until it was done. It was easier for everyone this way, he thought. No one could try to talk him out of it, no one could lie to him and say it would get better.

His cell phone was harder to ignore. Rather than being downstairs, easily explained away as a telemarketer, it sat on his bedside table, a photo of Mama covering the screen as it vibrated and sang. The sight of his mother made him waver, momentarily, but he reached over and hit 'ignore.' The silence, which had been so oppressive that morning, was comforting now, a reminder that no one had to know what he was going to do.

* * *

Lena frowned at the phone. It was rare for any of her kids to be separated from their cell phones for long, and Jesús was certainly not a deep enough sleeper to have not heard the call. She tried sending a text, but also with no answer. She called both home and cell phones again, to no avail, and finally, her wife. To her relief, Stef answered on the first ring.

"Hey love, how's the boy?"

"He's not answering the phone," Lena replied.

"That's not like him," Stef said, and her voice turned a little sour. "You think he's ignoring you on purpose?"

"I don't know. He didn't seem himself this morning, but I figured he was just grumpy and wanted to play hooky. I guess he might actually be sick, but..."

"But he'd never sleep through his cell phone ringing," Stef finished for her. "Yeah, that's weird. You want me to give him a try?"

"Please."

"Okay love, I'll call him and then call you back, alright? Love you."

It wasn't but a minute later when Lena's phone rang, her partner's photo filling up the screen. She slid the green button to answer and said, "No reply for you either?"

"Nope," Stef confirmed. "Which makes me think he's left his phone somewhere, which wouldn't be the first time. But the Find My Phone app shows that it's in the house."

"Do you think he went somewhere without it?" pondered Lena.

"Maybe. I'm not too worried, though, babe. He's probably out at the skate park or something. He can have the talking-to of his life when we get home."

"Okay," Lena agreed, somewhat hesitantly. Something about this felt wrong. Stef knew. She could hear it in her voice.

"It's fine, love. If you want, I'll keep trying to text or call him, and I'll let you know. But I've got to get back on the road and I'm sure your lunch break is almost up too."

"Okay," Lena said again. "Thanks. I love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Back at the house, Jesús was feeling increasingly antsy. He'd now ignored two calls from Lena and one from Stef, as well as texts from both of them and Emma. On the one hand, he felt some peace at the acceptance he'd come to. He'd found, between two bathrooms and four menstruating women, a significant amount of various kinds of painkillers which, all pooled, he felt sure would do something. In addition, he'd dug out a bottle of wine from the kitchen - he knew most people used hard liquor to OD, but his moms didn't have any of that, so he hoped this would do. On the other hand, each time his phone lit up (he'd silenced the buzzing, which had become too much to take after Lena's second call) he was reminded of the people he would leave behind.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For real this time, here's the suicide attempt chapter. Trigger warning. I mention specific drugs used to overdose but not amounts.

* * *

Jesús was utterly unaware of the reactions of his mothers to the unanswered calls and texts, but he could feel his own resolve slipping away with each glance at the traitorous cell phone. Shaking his head to clear it, he pressed down on the child-locked bottle of Midol and looked inside. Everything he'd found online said that ibuprofen wasn't a particularly effective drug to overdose on, but he hoped with enough of it, combined with other drugs, and chased with alcohol, it would do the trick. His hands were shaking. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he popped the first handful of pills into his mouth and took a swig out of the wine bottle. They felt funny going down his throat, the wine burning a little bit and the pills sticking to his insides as though his esophagus was closing up. He took another breath, and then another handful of pills. Soon enough he'd emptied a half-full bottle of Midol from his moms' room and a brand-new bottle of Tylenol from his own bathroom. He felt dizzy, but he wasn't sure if that was the meds, the alcohol, or just his anxiety. Thinking about anxiety made him more anxious, so he tried to refocus by swallowing another pill, this one an extra-strength Excedrin that Lena sometimes took for migraines.

* * *

At Anchor Beach, Lena found it much harder to focus on her work after lunch. Though Stef seemed sure Jesús was just playing hooky, out on his board or otherwise getting up to shenanigans, she couldn't ignore the gnawing worry at the pit of her stomach that said something was really wrong. Of course it was just a gut feeling, and of course she was probably worrying too much, but she couldn't help checking her phone every ten seconds to see if her son had responded. When the administrative assistant stuck her head into Lena's office and reminded her of an IEP meeting with the occupational therapist, parents, and a social worker, Keri's voice startled her so much she dropped her phone.

"Right, thanks," she said, and tried to smile. The secretary wasn't buying it.

"I can tell them you'll be a few minutes?" Keri offered, and Lena nodded gratefully.

"Just one thing to do," she promised, and when Keri left the room, she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. It was probably nothing.

* * *

Stef seethed a tiny bit as she directed the squad car out of the precinct parking lot and into the streets. First Jesús had pretended he was sick in order to stay home, when she'd already left for work and Lena was clearly rushed, and then he'd gone out to play while he was supposed to be home sick. That boy needed to learn some responsibility. But she knew she was no good at her job if she was distracted, so with practiced professionalism she put her family out of her mind in order to focus on the task at hand.

Jesús was feeling really weird now, his stomach tied up in knots, his head aching, and tears streaming unbidden from his eyes. Now that it seemed like it was potentially happening, death didn't seem like the necessary out he'd made it into. It seemed scary, and probably painful, and what he wanted more than anything was for someone to come home and stop him, for his mom to hold him and make everything better. Since that didn't seem to be an option, he reached for the final bottle in front of him. Others lay scattered on his bedroom rug, empty, and the wine was nearly gone, since he'd chugged it to try and get rid of the pill-stuck-in-throat feeling. Instead of picking up that last bottle of medication, though, he picked up his phone. Almost without thinking, he swiped at the missed call labeled "Mama" and held the phone to his ear. It was ringing - either the phone or his ear, he wasn't quite sure. And then, blissfully, blessedly, his mother's voice reached out to him.

"Jesús?"

* * *

Her phone had vibrated in her purse as she was walking down the hall to the conference room, and instead of ignoring it, Lena tugged it out and ducked into the staff bathroom to answer. Seeing her son's name on the screen sent a jolt of adrenaline through her, whether from fear or anger she didn't know, and she answered just with his name - "Jesús?"

"Mama," he said, the only word he could get past the lump in his throat and swirling of his vision.

She could tell instantly that he was crying. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you hurt? What hurts?" she asked frantically.

"Everything," he answered, his voice breaking on the word, the most honest answer he could give.

Lena felt her heart clench. Maybe he was really sick. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he had cancer. Maybe he- She caught herself before the hypotheticals went any further and simply said, "Do you need me to come home?"

Jesús felt something inside him awaken, some warm spot in his stomach that seemed to glow at the offer. "Please," he choked out.

"I'll be right there, baby."

* * *

Lena didn't bother to gather her things. She stuck her head into the main office and said hurriedly, "I have a family emergency. Please reschedule with the Harrisons." Before Keri could even respond, she was out the door and headed for her car, carrying only her purse and the manila folder with the IEP information for the meeting she'd been headed into. She knew it likely wasn't as serious as the word 'emergency' really implied, but that was the only way to get out of work on zero notice, and she'd promised her son she was coming, so dammit, she was coming.

The drive home usually took eight minutes, twelve in traffic. At quarter after noon, there was virtually no one else on the streets, so Lena sped and didn't care about the repercussions in her quest to get home. She parked crookedly and rushed to the door, which she unlocked with fumbling hands. Once inside, she called immediately, "Jesús?"

Jesús heard the noise downstairs but didn't know what to do besides sit, shaking, the glow in his abdomen gone and fear overtaking him. He listened to the sound of feet on the steps - it felt like there was water in his ears - and waited for someone to save him.

Lena stuck her head into the living room and then took the stairs two at a time on her way to the boys' room. The door was open. Jesús sat in the middle of the carpet, his arms wrapped around himself, tears pouring down his face. She barely noticed the debris around him - empty pill bottles and a bottle of wine - as she rushed in and took him into her arms. Jesús let her hold him, his body at first stiff as a board and then melting into her embrace. She rocked him side to side ever so gently, and that was enough to make him burst.

"I didn't want to do it," he ground out, his snot dripping onto her work blouse. "I didn't mean to." His voice was thick with tears. At the sound of it, Lena leaned back and looked, really looked, at her son.

"Do what, baby?" she asked, but she didn't need him to answer. When she'd moved away from Jesús she caught sight of the bottles. A lump came up in her own throat, and she reached for them, shaking each container desperately, hoping to hear the baby-rattle sound of pills inside it. After three proved empty, she looked at him. "Baby, did you take all of this?" He only nodded dumbly.

Instinct kicked in, or she would have been frozen there on the spot. "You need to get to the hospital," she stated, her own breath coming in gasps as she choked back sobs. She fumbled for Jesús' phone, still on the ground beside him, and selected emergency call. After shakily informing the 911 dispatcher of their address, the situation, and the names of the medications on the floor, she ignored the dispatcher's instructions to stay on the line and stay calm, knowing her next priority was to contact Stef.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This chapter deals with the physical repercussions of the suicide attempt. Stomach pumping is described, as well as other potentially triggering medical details._

 _I keep thinking this story is just one more chapter longer, and then I start writing, and it doesn't seem to end. But my guess is that it will last two more chapters beyond this. No promises, though. Let me know what you think!_

* * *

Stef saw her phone light up on her desk and frowned. Lena didn't normally call her during work hours, since it was just too unpredictable whether she'd be able to answer. Her phone was always on silent during the day, and she made sure to check it as regularly as she could, but she couldn't answer calls. Still, she happened to be at her desk right now, and she was almost done with this arrest report. And if Lena was calling, it had to be serious. She answered, "Hello?"

"Stef!" Lena cried, clearly almost in tears and totally panicked. "Stef!"

"What, love? What?" Stef asked wildly, her mind a complete blank.

"Jesús," Lena said, her voice breaking.

"What about Jesús?"

"He... He tried to kill-" Lena gulped. "He tried to k-k-"

"He tried to kill?" Stef repeated in confusion. Kill who?

"Kill himself," Lena finally managed, and with that, Stef's entire body froze. She couldn't speak, couldn't hardly breathe. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. Oh g-d. Oh g-d oh g-d oh g-d. Her bottom lip trembled and she felt her chest collapse.

"Wh-where are you?" she stuttered. "Did you call 911? What- what did he do?" A sob rose unbidden from her throat and the officer sitting across from her looked up in concern.

"I called 911 and an ambulance is on its way. We're at home, in his room. He- he- Oh, Stef!"

"I'm coming home," Stef said immediately. "Wait right there for me."

* * *

The sound of sirens caught Lena's ear. "Wait, no, Stef. The ambulance. I hear it."

"I'll meet you at the hospital, then," her wife promised, and the phone line clicked. She looked down at her son, who lay slumped in her arms, his eyes glassy and breathing shallow.

"Oh, g-d," she gasped, and he hardly reacted as her body shook with sobs. "Hold on, baby," she begged, brushing her lips across his forehead.

There was a pounding on the front door, and then a voice yelled in, "Emergency services!"

"Upstairs!" she cried back, pulling Jesús closer to her as though anticipating the moment of separation. Footsteps thundered up and soon enough uniformed paramedics appeared at the doorway, already leaping into action.

One EMT took hold of her shoulders and gently guided her away, while several more clustered around Jesús, one reaching for his pulse, the others preparing to transfer his body to the backboard that entered the room shortly after. Another gathered the bottles off the rug, to identify the chemicals in his body.

"Ma'am?" The medic holding Lena spoke to her gently, and she turned, tears still running down her face. "We need to get your son to the hospital, and we'll need you to give us some medical information. Will you be riding in the ambulance with us?" She nodded, words much too far away for access right now, and followed the crew down the stairs, locking the door behind them automatically.

* * *

The ride to the hospital was a blur. All Lena could really focus on was the feeling of Jesús' hand in hers - limp, but still conscious. The paramedics let her sit beside him while they took his vitals, started an IV of saline to re-hydrate him, and radioed information ahead to the emergency room.

Arrival at the facility was similarly blurry, this time Lena's brain kicking in only when her son was wheeled away from her and his hand slipped from hers. "Jesús!" she cried, but he barely stirred. Again, an EMT placed a hand on her back, this time guiding her into the emergency department. As the hospital staff rushed to attend to Jesús, admission paperwork appeared in front of Lena, who still felt woefully unprepared for this kind of formality. She filled in his name, birth date, insurance provider, and pediatrician in a daze, leaving many blanks. She glanced over the medical history form but couldn't make the words stay straight on the page through her tears. The last form was a consent form for 72-hour suicide watch, and she signed it numbly, focused only on one word: suicide.

* * *

Jesús could hear someone calling his name, but the voice was faint, as though from far away or traveling through water. He tried to open his eyes, to unstick his thick, dry lips, to respond, but his body seemed too heavy to carry out his orders. Soon, though, an unpleasant sensation filled his nose and throat, something rubbing and pinching, and breathing seemed harder. Then a tugging sensation began in his stomach, but before he could process anything else, he again drifted out of consciousness.

Meanwhile, Stef was rushing into the emergency waiting room, where she instantly spotted her wife sitting numbly near the front desk. She went straight to Lena, who stood up and fell into her arms. After a fierce hug, Stef demanded some answers.

"Where is he?"

"In a room. They're, uh, pumping his stomach. Said they'd come get me when we could go back." Lena wiped her nose on her wrist, her eyes red from crying but the tears themselves done.

"What happened?" Stef asked, sinking into a chair, Lena following suit. Lena shook her head.

"He called me. He called me after lunch, and," she sniffed, "and he said he wanted me to come home, so I did, and I found him in his room, with bottles all around, and just- Oh, Stef, he looked so broken." With that the tears came again, hard and fast just like they'd been on and off since she'd arrived at the scene of her son's suicide attempt.

"What did he take?" Stef asked tightly, grabbing Lena's hand in a show of support but desperate for information.

"A bunch of stuff, I don't know. Ibuprofen and Excedrin and Midol. And almost a whole bottle of wine, too. Stef, how could we-" Again her voice broke, unable to go on.

"I don't know, love," Stef admitted, her own guilt and fear growing inside. "But he's here," she reminded them both, nodding and swallowing. "He's getting taken care of."

Before Lena could respond, a resident in a white coat came out and called, "Mrs. Adams Foster?" Both women stood up. The doctor looked between them in confusion for a second, before nodding briskly and saying, "You must be Jesús' moms."

Lena nodded, and Stef inquired, "Can we see him?"

"In a moment, Mrs. Adams Foster," the young man assured them. "I wanted to speak to you briefly about your son's physical condition, and there is a psychologist on her way down who would also like to see you. I'm Doctor Abboud." He shook their hands and led them into a small room, clearly designed for receiving news such as this. "Your son came in conscious, but tachycardic - that means rapid heart rate - and delirious. His Blood Alcohol Level was 0.14, which as you know is very high. Jesús' semi-conscious state led us to be concerned about aspiration of vomit, so we chose to pump his stomach rather than induce vomiting to try and extract as much of the medication and alcohol as possible. That procedure involves suction via nasogastric tube, and we're pleased to say Jesús' body responded well to it. His BAC has lowered, as has his heart rate, and we feel confident that he will make a full recovery when he regains consciousness." Here the resident paused, gauging their reactions. Stef and Lena's hands were linked. Lena's face was pale, Stef's stony cold. "Now, Mrs. and Mrs. Adams Foster, though your son's physical condition is stable, we are concerned about the possibility of him taking actions to end his life again, and so we've placed him on 72-hour suicide watch. That means he will remain hospitalized and under constant supervision while his body adjusts from this trauma, and then we will release him to a skilled psychiatric care facility, where he will need to satisfy their conditions for release. A psychologist is here to speak with you now, and we can contact a hospital social worker to help your family through the decisions needed to help your son make a full recovery."

Lena sat in silence, her entire body frozen solid, and so it was Stef who responded. "Thank you, Doctor. Can we see our son now?"

"Sure," Dr. Abboud replied, standing up. "I'll tell the psychologist that you prefer to meet with her later. Jesús is in the third room on the left. You can go ahead down there now."

* * *

When he woke up, a sore throat was Jesús' only indication that his memory of that odd nasal sensation had actually happened. Well, that and the ache in his gut, and the itch of a needle in the back of his hand. His hand. Both hands felt warm, as though encased in heated gloves. He blinked his eyes open to find his mothers sitting on either side of him, each holding one of his hands.

"Hi baby," Stef whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek with her free hand.

"Hi Mommy," he replied, using the moniker that had not crossed his lips in years.


	5. Chapter 5

Both women felt their hearts clench at the sound of their son's voice, thanking anything and everything for his presence in front of them, his warm, alive body lying in the hospital bed.

"Hey baby," Stef said again, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Mommy's here."

"Mama?" he croaked, turning his head slowly, the room fuzzy.

"I'm here too, sweetheart," Lena assured him, her chin wobbling and lower lip clenched firmly between her teeth as she caressed his other hand.

"I'm sorry," Jesús whispered, tears rising in his throat. He blinked them away furiously.

"Just rest, honey," Stef said, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. "We're right here. We're not going anywhere. You just rest."

His eyelashes did seem awfully heavy, not to mention the pounding of his head. Sleep seemed easier by far than facing what he had done. His moms sat in heavy silence as their son, their blissfully still living son, drifted off to sleep between them, aided by whatever was dripping through the IV in the top of his hand. When Lena finally felt ready to speak, she looked up and made eye contact with her wife, and without saying anything, Stef understood.

"I know, honey," she said, reaching across Jesús' legs to take Lena's hand. "I know."

"How did we not know?" Lena asked, choking on her words. "How did we miss this?"

Stef shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. As much as she wanted to comfort her wife, to reassure her, to absolve them both of blame, she couldn't help but be tormented by the same questions. "I don't know, Lena."

"What if he hadn't called me? What if he had-" Lena's voice broke.

"Don't go there," Stef said, squeezing her hand. "We can't torture ourselves with the what ifs. You know that. He's here. He's okay. He's-" But Lena cut her off with uncharacteristic vitriol.

"Okay? Stef, he tried to _kill_ himself! In what world is that _okay_?!"

Her wife's silence made the room echo.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled." Lena took a deep breath. "You're right. He's here. He's... alive."

"And he's _going_ to be okay," Stef said fiercely. "He _is_."

Lena nodded slowly. They sat in silence, listening to the tick of the wall clock, until Lena realized something.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, looking around wildly. "What time is it? The other kids!"

Stef checked her phone. "It's nearly two. They're still in school."

"Should we tell them?" Lena asked.

"No," Stef replied resolutely. "Not yet, anyway. There's nothing they can do and it will just worry them. When school lets out one of us can meet them and explain."

"But Brandon has piano!" Lena panicked. "And Mariana has STEM! It's Tuesday!"

"Shh," soothed Stef. "Honey, it's gonna be okay. Just breathe. We can talk about this later. Just... just rest, okay, love? Just like we told Jesús. I'm here. He's here. We're not going anywhere."

Lena nodded slowly, rubbing her lips together. She let out a slow, deep sigh. Then a knock on the half-open door caused both moms to turn, startled, as three people walked into the room.

"Mrs. Adams Foster?" said the tallest one, a woman in lavender scrubs. "I'm Denise. I'll be the nurse taking care of Jesús while he's here. I just need to check his vitals, alright?"

Stef nodded her approval, giving Jesús' hand one last squeeze and then moving over to make space for Denise. As the nurse began her work, the second woman who had entered spoke.

"Hi, Mrs. Adams Fosters. I'm Eileen. I'm the hospital social worker. And this is my intern, Grace." She gestured to a younger woman standing slightly behind her, who inclined her head in greeting. "Dr. Abboud said you might walk to talk through some of your options. Would now be a good time for that?"

Lena, finally coming back into herself for the first time, really, since she'd caught sight of her son in his bedroom, nodded.

"Do you mind if we pull up a chair?" Eileen waited for a nod before she and Grace found places to sit, both facing the bed, where Stef had joined Lena on Jesús' left. Stef placed her arm around her wife and both waited for the social worker to speak.

"I believe Dr. Abbboud talked with you about the protocol for suicide attempts, and I know you signed a consent form for the 72 hour hold. What that means is that once Jesús is physically stabilized, he'll be transferred to our teen psychiatric ward, where he'll be monitored for the remainder of that time, at which point we will evaluate him for continued risk. Does that make sense?" She smiled, making eye contact with both of them in turn.

"Y-yes," Lena said, speaking for them both, for Stef had gone silent now, stone-faced beside her. "And after three days we can take him home?"

"Well," Eileen replied, rolling the phrasing around in her mouth, "after the three days you'll have a meeting with the psych team and they will provide their recommendation for continued care."

"Meaning?" Stef asked, finding her voice after some of the information had sunk in.

"Meaning the care team up on that floor will assess Jesús' risk for future self-harming behavior, and determine with the two of you whether he is ready to return home or whether continued inpatient treatment might be beneficial." After a pause, Eileen added, "We want what's best for your son, just like you do. I know this is a difficult situation. How are you feeling?" She addressed the question to Stef, but then turned her gaze to Lena too.

The question felt almost patronizing. "How are we _feeling_?" Stef repeated incredulously. "Oh, I don't know, like our son just tried to kill himself!"

Eileen didn't flinch at the harsh words. "That's a difficult thing to grapple with," she agreed. "It sounds like you're pretty upset. Can you tell me more about that?"

Stef bit her tongue, anger rising in her chest, as Lena replied for both of them. "I think we're still in shock right now," she explained. "We... we didn't see this coming."

"Parents often don't," Eileen acknowledged. "And how does that feel?"

"Like shit," Stef said bluntly.

"Like we should have known," Lena added softly. "Like we messed up."

Eileen nodded, an understanding downturn to her mouth. "That makes sense. You feel like it's your fault that Jesús did this, because you somehow weren't good enough parents. But I want you to know that many teenagers show no outward signs of depression before taking drastic action like this. And the fact that you are here for him now means more than anything else." After a pause, she continued, "Guilt is very common after something like this. But it isn't going to help Jesús get better. Feeling guilty isn't going to help you help him." Again, a pause while Stef and Lena took in this reminder. "Grace and I have a couple other clients to speak with now, but if it's alright with you, we'll come back and check in on all three of you in about half an hour." A silent nod from Lena provided the affirmation she needed, and she stood, her intern rising too as though attached.

Stef and Lena followed the social workers out the door with their eyes, turning around to discover the nurse gone and Jesús still asleep. They resumed their previous positions, one on each side, both holding his hands, and sat sentinel until he stirred again.


	6. Chapter 6

_[A/N: Obviously the drama of this story is over, but I'm trying to wrap up the storyline realistically, so forgive me if this drags on a bit. I'm too detail-oriented to just make a huge time jump. As the attempt and emergency care has finished, this story won't be nearly as triggering, hopefully, but I do still want to warn readers that this story discusses suicide and may be difficult to read. Take care of yourselves.]_

Stef and Lena each held one of Jesús' hands as the social worker, Eileen, explained the psych ward's regulations. He would be allowed family-only visits today, and then anyone was welcome to visit during the designated hours. His schoolwork could be brought to the hospital, if that was a concern, and after the 72-hour hold expired, further treatment plans would be discussed with the staff and family. Jesús listened in silence up until the phrase "72-hour hold," at which he protested. "Why do I have to stay there that long?"

Eileen looked at him with gentle understanding. "Well, Jesús, standard protocol for suicide attempts involves-" But he cut her off.

"It wasn't really a _suicide_ attempt," he argued. "Just a… mistake."

"A _mistake_?!" Stef repeated. "Honey, it could have been a _fatal_ mistake."

"Stef. Honey." Lena raised both eyebrows and spoke firmly. "Don't be so hard on him."

"Lena, he tried to _kill himself_ ," she responded in disbelief. "Don't tell me to calm down!"

Jesús looked down at his hands on the white hospital sheets and tried to block out his moms' voices. Eileen held up both hands in a peacemaking gesture.

"Let's all take a breath here. This has been a very stressful situation for all of you, understandably so, but our focus is on Jesús right now." As if to enforce this, she turned towards him. "The hold is standard, like I said, and your moms signed a consent form. All anyone wants is to help you, Jesús, and to keep you safe. Okay?" He nodded mutely, his brief flash of fire since extinguished. "So your nurse will be in soon to get your IV out, and then you'll be brought upstairs to the adolescent psych ward. That means all of the patients you'll be with are between the ages of 13 and 17," she explained. "You'll get a room up there, probably with a roommate, and your moms can bring some things over for you – any clothes, though no belts or drawstrings, and books or stuffed animals for comfort. Just nothing sharp or inappropriate," Eileen added to Lena, who nodded. "And you'll meet with the staff on that ward, Jesús, to assess risks and develop a treatment plan. Sound good?"

Jesús was still watching his fingers intently, until the pause caused him to jolt up. She'd finished talking. She must have been waiting for him to respond. "Uh, yeah," he agreed, not entirely sure what he was agreeing too.

The IV removal took seconds, as did the walk to the elevator, where Jesús and his moms rode up to the fourth floor of the Children's Hospital in silence. They were buzzed in through a locked glass door to enter the ward, and greeted by nurses at a reception desk, who were expecting them. Jesús had been given scrubs downstairs to wear in lieu of the open-backed gown, and after a brief questionnaire about his other possessions (none, aside from the clothes he'd arrived in), the three of them were led into a conference room containing a number of medical-looking strangers.

"Hello, Mrs. and Mrs. Adams Foster," a dark-haired man greeted them. "I'm Dr. Smith. I'm one of the psychologists who work on this ward, and I'll be meeting with your son while he's here. These are some of the other professionals who will make up your son's treatment team: Jackie, Norm, and Loretta are nurses, Sara does occupational therapy, and Kay is a social worker, who coordinates all of us to provide the best care possible."

Stef, Lena, and Jesús nodded as Dr. Smith pointed to each person around the table in turn. Lena noted with some distaste that the doctor had addressed only them, not Jesús, but appreciated the smiles the other staff offered her son, who looked strangely pale in the pastel scrubs. The new social worker took over the conversation, directing her words towards Jesús himself.

"Jesús, it's up to you whether you'd like your parents present for this meeting. We're just going to do a basic intake interview with you, ask some simple questions, and then we'll let you get settled in. Okay?"

He nodded, not having much choice.

"So, would you like your parents to be here?" Kay pressed. Jesús looked back and forth between his moms, and then shook his head. "Okay. In that case, moms, we'll ask you to step out while we talk with Jesús a little bit. You guys can go too," she added to the other staff at the table. "We'll re-convene for a formal care conference tomorrow, but for now, I know you have other patients to attend to."

"Nice to meet you, Jesús," one of the nurses said as she stood, and the others made similar comments as they left the room.

Stef and Lena stood very reluctantly. "We'll be just outside, okay, bud?" Stef said, rubbing Jesús' shoulder. He nodded.

"We love you," Lena added, bending down to kiss the side of his head before following the nurses and OT out of the conference room, leaving Jesús alone with the psychologist and the social worker.

"I don't like the thought of him having to stay here," Stef said as the door closed behind them.

"Me neither," Lena admitted, "but they're better equipped to care for him than we are."

"I would watch him," Stef vowed, her voice low and tense. "I would stay home and stay with him until we could be sure nothing like this would ever happen again."

"I know, honey," her wife said, laying her head on Stef's shoulder. "I know."

Inside the conference room, Jesús felt like the flimsy plastic chair he sat on was afire, so intense were the eyes on him. He didn't know how to answer their questions. He didn't know how to explain that he hadn't wanted to die, not really, but just to make everything stop, just to make it go away. He didn't know what "it" was. They kept prompting him with questions like, "Can you say more about that?" or "And what do you mean by that?" and all he wanted was to sleep on a cold pillow. But there wouldn't be a reprieve until he'd answered these people.

"Are you still thinking of killing yourself?" Dr. Smith asked brusquely. He shook his head. "And what's changed since earlier today?" the doctor pressed.

"Well, I'm here," Jesús said flatly. "So… that's changed."

"Did you want to come to the hospital?"

"No."

"Did you want to attract attention?"

"No! I just… had to do something."

"Can you say more about that?" Kay interrupted, her questions more respectful but still like a barrage of hail striking his conscious. Jesús shrugged. He was tired of trying to explain.

"Do you have any other thoughts of hurting yourself?" the doctor proceeded, and Jesús shook his head. "Cutting yourself?" Shake. "Burning yourself?" Shake. "Do you smoke?" Shake. "Do you drink alcohol?" Shake. The questions felt like they'd never end.

Finally, Kay said, "I think that's enough for now. We'll be talking a lot in the next couple of days, Jesús, but right now I bet you'd like to rest." He nodded gratefully. "I'll have Jackie show you to your room while I talk to your moms quickly, and then they can come see you, alright?" He nodded again, and followed her out, where she communicated the same information to Stef and Lena.

A brief private talk with the moms ensued, wherein both women expressed concern and fear, and the social worker attempted to reassure them as honestly as possible, saying that Jesús was not currently presenting with suicidal ideation and she felt confident he would make a full recovery. This was comforting, in light of the situation, but the situation wasn't particularly comfortable. Finally, Jesús was able to lie down (in yet another hospital bed) and his mothers were sent home to collect some things for him and break the news to the rest of the family.


	7. Chapter 7

It was after five o'clock when Stef and Lena finally arrived home, both exhausted from the hospital excursion. The transfer from ER to medical floor to psych floor was an incredibly arduous process, and even though they didn't have to watch the medical care take place, knowing that their baby had been given activated charcoal to drink and had his stomach pumped wasn't exactly easy to handle. As they'd each arrived at the hospital separately, they couldn't even drive home together. After a quick hug, both women got into their cars. The drive home was long and empty, Stef following closely behind her wife the entire way. When they pulled into the driveway, one after the other, they each took a moment to gather themselves up before getting out of the cars. Stef shook out her hair and Lena checked in the rearview mirror for any stray tears. Then they reunited at the edge of the lawn.

"What are we going to tell the other kids?" Lena asked, voicing a concern that had been nibbling at the back of her mind all day.

"I don't know," Stef replied honestly, shrugging. "Right now we need to make sure they've all eaten and done some homework, and we can... We can figure it out."

Lena mentally took inventory of the family as they made their way to the door. "B had his piano lesson at 3:30, so he should be home by now. I was supposed to drive Jude and Mariana home after tutoring and STEM club; I hope they walked together." She pulled her phone out to see several texts from both Mariana and Jude, asking for her whereabouts. "Dammit, I didn't even think about them before."

"It's okay, love," Stef soothed, giving Lena's arm a squeeze before she fished out her keys and opened the front door. "You've been a little busy," she pointed out, and Lena nodded, exhaling emphatically.

"Moms?" Jude's newly changed voice greeted them almost instantly when they entered the foyer. He leapt up from where he'd been studying at the dining room table and dashed over to them. "Where were you? Mama, Ms. Keri said you left right after lunch and you weren't answering your phone so I waited until Mariana finished with STEM and she walked home with me. Is everything okay? Callie made dinner. What's going on?"

It took a second for the thousand and one questions to settle into Lena's foggy brain. "Uh, I'm sorry honey, I should have let you know I wasn't around to drive you home. I'm glad you and Mari found each other." She scratched her face. "Um, Callie made dinner? That's- That's great. So you guys ate?"

"Uh huh," Jude nodded. "There's some left for you and Jesús. Oh, yeah. Jesús isn't home. He hasn't been home all afternoon. We dunno where he went. Callie said she didn't see him when she got home and when I went to my room when I got home, he was gone."

Lena felt her chin wobble as her sweet young son spoke so innocently about his older brother. Stef, noting her wife's distress, intervened to answer. "Thanks, buddy. We know where Jesús is." After a pause, she continued, "Mama and I need to change out of our work clothes and then we want to talk to you guys, okay? Can you get your siblings in the living room?" At Jude's nod, she forced a smile and then made her way up the stairs.

Stef closed the bedroom door and turned around to find tears streaked down her wife's face. "Oh, honey," she breathed, taking her into her arms. "I know." She felt her own eyes well up, the fear and worry and concern from the day finally brimming over in the comfort of their room. They stood together for a long beat, both trying not to cry any harder. Finally, Lena gathered herself up, pulling away from the embrace.

"You'd better put your gun away," she said, her voice barely trembling. "And then we have to go tell everyone."

* * *

Down in the living room, the four siblings were debating what could possibly be going on.

"Maybe something happened to Gram or Gramps," Brandon suggested, shrugging. "That could have taken Mama away from school, and if it was really bad, she might have asked Mom to come to the hospital or something."

"You think one of them had a heart attack or something?" Mariana's eyes were wide.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions," Callie said, trying to comfort her sister.

"Plus didn't you say it had something to do with Jesús?" Mariana asked Jude, who shrugged.

"They said they know where he is. So I dunno, maybe he had to go to the doctor or something."

"Yeah but if he was at the doctor he'd be home by now," Brandon reasoned.

"I hope-"

Whatever Mariana hoped was cut off by the appearance of their moms in the doorway. Callie, Jude, and Mariana all sat close together on the couch under the window, subconsciously preparing for bad news. Brandon sat beside them. Each mom took her seat in the soft chairs across from the sofa, exchanging looks. No one knew how to begin.

"Are Gram and Gramps okay?" Brandon asked, at the same time as Callie said, "What happened?" and Mariana interjected, "Where's Jesús?"

"Jesús-" Stef began, and then stopped. "Gram and Gramps? What about them?" There was a moment of dubious silence. "What's this about Gram and Gramps?" she asked again.

"We thought maybe one of them had gotten sick or something," Jude explained. "But they're not, right?"

"No, your grandparents are all fine," Stef assured, and then she looked to Lena. _But your brother isn't_ , she couldn't bring herself to say.

"So?" Mariana probed, curious but not yet alarmed.

"Your brother..." Stef swallowed. "Your brother is in the hospital." At that, the other four kids broke out in a confused hubbub.

"What happened?"

"Is he okay?"

"Is he sick?"

"Did he get hurt?"

"He... He got hurt," Stef repeated, glancing at Lena, whose eyes were turned down and tight with pain. "He... hurt himself."

"What, you mean like cut himself?" Mariana asked, glancing between her moms.

"...No," Stef replied, trying to buy herself time. "He, ah... He took some medicine. And um... He got sick. So he had to go to the emergency room." She licked her lips and looked from child to child. All four looked confused.

"Jesús wanted to hurt himself," Lena explained, drawing the eyes to herself and off her wife, who was flustered and running out of words. "So he took some medicine that he didn't need. But he called me and I was able to get home and call 911, and they took him to the hospital."

"He tried to kill himself?" Callie asked softly. Lena bit her lip, nodding. Mariana let out a gasp.

"Is he okay?" Jude sounded scared.

"Jesús is just fine," Stef assured. "He's going to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, just to make sure, and to get him some help for how he's been feeling. But he's okay, alright? I promise." She made eye contact with each of her children individually. Callie was staring at her lap. Mariana was crying. Brandon looked wooden. "Come here, babies. Come on." She stood up and held her arms out. Mariana came straight to her for a long embrace, then Jude. Lena had taken Callie into her arms, though it seemed Callie was providing more support to her mama than she was receiving from her. Brandon let his mom hug him briefly, and then moved between his siblings, leaving the room and going upstairs.

"He's gonna be okay," Stef promised, wrapping an arm around Jude. "He's being taken really great care of, okay?"

At the same time, Lena had taken Mariana into her arms. The teen was still crying. "I know," Lena murmured, kissing her daughter's hair. "I know, love. I know."

Mariana turned up with surprisingly savage eyes. "How could he _do_ this to me?" she spat, shaking a little in her sudden anger. "How could he?"

"Mariana, he didn't mean to hurt you," Callie said, laying a hand on her sister's shoulder. "He was just..." She trailed off.

"Well he did!" Mariana exclaimed, wrenching herself away from the comforting touches of her family and following her eldest brother out of the room.

"Are you guys okay?" Stef asked the two newest members of the family, both of whom looked shaken. They nodded, though, Callie taking Jude's hand and squeezing it to provide some support. "Okay."

"Do you want something to eat, Mama?" Callie asked, her voice catching Lena off guard as she had once again retreated into guilt and worry.

"What? Oh, don't worry, honey. I can-"

"I made pasta. I'll go heat some up for you guys." Callie didn't wait for confirmation before she went to her task, bringing her little brother with her to give their moms some space.

"I'll go check on Mariana," Stef said after a moment of silence, and she too headed upstairs.


	8. Chapter 8: Author's Note

_Author's Note: Thanks to anyone who stuck around for an actual end to this story. I'm sorry it isn't going to conclude any more than this; this feels like a place to rest for me. I recently lost my best friend to suicide so this story, which started as a plotline I couldn't stop thinking about, is now just a little too painful for me. I want to remind anyone who is experiencing suicidal ideation that all the crappy cliches about "a permanent solution to a temporary problem" and such are actually usually true, that death isn't the perfect answer it sometimes appears to be, and that you and your life matter so much more than you think right now. Here are some resources for anyone experiencing suicidal thoughts or who is concerned about a friend or loved one:_

 _National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 in the U.S., or online suicidepreventionlifeline (dot org) at where you can instant-message with a professional_

 _Crisis Textline: Text "connect" to 741741 from anywhere in the U.S._

 _Trans Lifeline: 877-565-8860 in the U.S., 877-330-6366 in Canada, or online at translifeline (dot org), a hotline designed and run by transgender people for transgender people, as trans people (especially youth) have one of the highest suicide rates of any demographic_

 _Resources for those living in the United Kingdom on the NHS website: nhs (dot org) /Conditions/Suicide/Pages/Getting-help (dot aspx)_

 _EDIT for clarification: This is the end of this story. I will not be writing it anymore. I feel like the last chapter reached some sort of conclusion, and I don't have it in me personally to continue the recovery part of the story. I've changed the story's status from "in progress" to "complete" and I hope readers don't feel too cheated out of more. If you need more Fosters fic in your life, my author recommendations are hyadamsfoster, TheTBone, obsessedatopia, b'shert, BelovedMaeve, and lifesizehysteria._


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